The Young Woman's Guide

by William A. Alcott

But if much might be done by an individual in a solitary state, how much more may be accomplished in the social state in which it has pleased our Heavenly Father to place us? It is difficult to turn our eyes in any direction, without being met by numerous and striking proofs of divine wisdom and benevolence; but if there be any one thing in the whole moral world, short of the redemption by Jesus Christ, which overwhelms me with wonder, and leads me to adore more than any thing else, it is the divine wisdom and benevolence, as manifested in the social state allotted to man.

How interesting—how exceedingly so—the relation between a mother and a daughter? And how many blessings—deficient as many mothers are in knowledge and love—are showered upon the head of a young woman, through maternal instrumentality! In no case; however, is this relation more interesting, than when the young woman is just beginning to act for herself. Then, if ever, should she avail herself of them. She knows little of the world before her—either of the dangers on the one hand, or the advantages on the other. Of these, however, the mother knows much. Let the daughter value her society and good counsel above all else human, and lay hold of it as for her life.

How interesting, too, the relation between a wise and good father, and a virtuous and affectionate daughter! I am most struck, however, with this relation—and most reminded of the divine goodness in its institution—when I see a daughter ministering to the wants, moral and physical, of a very aged relative, parent or grandparent; one who is superannuated or sick.

There are, in civilized society—and above all, where the rays of the blessed gospel of the Son of God have been let in—scenes on which angels themselves might delight to gaze, and on which I have no doubt they do gaze with the most intense delight. Would that such scenes were still more frequent! Would that filial love was always what it should be, instead of degenerating into cold formalities.

"How have I been charmed;" says Addison, "to see one of the most beauteous women the age has produced, kneeling to put on an old man's slipper." And so have I. It is a sight which revives one's hopes of fallen nature. No matter if the infirmities of the parent are the consequences of his own folly, vice and crime, the same soft hand is still employed, day after day—and the same countenance is lighted up with a smile, at being able thus to employ it.

But when to the tenderest love on the part of a young woman in this relation, and to the kindest efforts to promote the temporal happiness and comfort of those whom she holds dear is joined a love for the mind and soul; when every opportunity, is laid hold of with eagerness, to inform, and improve, and elevate—and this, too, though the subject of her labor is the most miserable wreck of humanity of which we can conceive; when to works of love are added the warmest prayers, at the bedside and elsewhere, for Almighty aid and favor; the interest of the scene is indescribable. It needs a more than mortal pen or pencil to portray it.

There are other relations of society—relations of the young woman, I mean, in particular—which are of great importance and interest. Among these, are the relations of brother and sister.

Perhaps I am inclined to make too much of the passage of Scripture—already noticed in another chapter—where Cain is said to have been set over Abel, in the very language which is used to signify the superiority of Adam over Eve. And yet it must mean something. There is a mutual dependence between brothers and sisters of every age, which should result in continual improvement—intellectual, moral and religious. The duties involved in this relation, however, will be more especially binding on elder brothers and sisters; and as it appears to me, above all, on elder sisters. Indeed, in this respect, it is impossible for me to be mistaken. An elder sister is a sort of second mother; and she often fulfils the place of a mother. Oh, how important-how sacred—the trust committed to her keeping.

I have seen the care of a large family devolve, by the death of the mother, upon the elder daughter. Instead of her being disheartened at all, I have known her to go forward in the pathway of duty—sensible, at the same time, of her dependence on her Heavenly Father—and not only instruct the other children, but "train them up," in same good degree, "in the way they should go."

Do you think I respected or loved this young woman the less, because she was thus early a house—keeper, a matron, and a mother? Do you think I esteemed her the less, because—exclusive of the common school—she had no seminary of instruction? Her education was a thousand times more valuable than that of the fashionable routine of the schools, without the kind of discipline she had. A world whose females were all educated in the family schools—and especially in the school of affliction, and poverty, and hardship—would be incomparably a better world than one whose young women should "wear soft clothing," and live in "kings' courts"—who should be educated by merely fashionable mothers, amid ease and abundance, and "finished" at the institute or the boarding school.